


Unforgivable

by Dr_Cat



Series: Like Minded [5]
Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Angst, Forgiveness, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Cat/pseuds/Dr_Cat
Summary: Tag for "Killer K.I.T.T."
Series: Like Minded [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642711
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Unforgivable

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own nor have I come up with Knight Rider or the characters mentioned in this story. They were created by Glen A. Larson and are copyrighted to NBC/Universal.

They forgive me, but I find myself unable to accomplish such a feat. A week ago, I almost went against everything I was created for; I almost took life. At the time, I never would have even known it. Several people could have died from my actions and worst of all, I attempted to destroy the most pivotal person in my existence; I almost killed Michael.

They insist it wasn't my fault; that I wasn't responsible for my actions and I know that to be true. But I was hijacked in the cruelest of ways; forced to witness my behavior thinking it was a bad dream only to awake and find it was true. The nightmares won't stop and I can't get rid of the images and the sounds and the horror. The screams of frightened people at the convention, the terror in my friends' eyes as I came barreling towards them and Michael's pleas to stop . . . I didn't want the memories to be there, but I didn't deserve to forget. Not when Devon still flinches when I pull too quickly up the semi's ramp or when a look of guilt passes over Bonnie's face. Not while RC's faith in my integrity remains broken and especially not while Michael has to keep reassuring me, and himself, the trust is still there. It's all so upsetting, so unnerving, so unavoidable . . . It all reminds me of how vulnerable I really am; how artificial; how dangerous.

"I should have never been created," I say quietly from my spot in the garage, listening as the argument echoes back off the concrete walls and resonates sincere to my processor. A light comes on from behind, the long shadow of a lone figure cast out before me. I know who it is and it surprises me.

"I never want to hear you utter those words again, Kitt. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Devon," I say in a small voice, wishing I had kept my thoughts to myself or at least detected his presence.

"A great deal of time and effort went into your development and creation, Kitt. Though Wilton Knight made his share of mistakes in the past, you most certainly weren't one of them," he says, walking up in front of me. He seems to have rolled right out of bed with a dressing gown over his pajamas and slippers on his feet.

"Devon, I didn't mean . . ." I begin until, with shut eyes and pursed lips, he holds up a hand for me to remain quiet. I didn't want him to know I felt this way; I didn't want any of them to know because they felt so sure of my pardon from this crime; a pardon I couldn't accept but wanted them to believe. What am I even talking about? How can I be feeling this way? Why was Devon here to begin with? It's two in the morning. I have to ask.

"Devon, what brings you down here at this hour?"

He opens his eyes and looks down at my scanner before raising his head to look at something just beyond me. I quickly activate my systems to become more aware of my surroundings and see . . . oh, no.

"Better put, pal, what are we all doing up at this hour?" Michael says as he walks up next to Devon, equally dressed for bed; just a white T-shirt and pajama pants. I'm slightly put off by his question, not knowing if he expects an answer to it or not.

"I'm not sure I understand. What are we doing up?" I ask, trying to stall until I come up with a way out of this.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Devon says as he brings a hand up to his mouth to cover a slight yawn.

"Buddy, you tried calling us up again tonight and we think it was you last night and every night before that," Michael says concernedly. I don't know what they're talking about.

"I never tried to contact anyone . . ."

"I don't think you meant to, but this time we caught it."

I'm still confused; scanner tracking quickly in an unfortunate show of my dismay.

"What he's saying, Kitt," Devon begins, "Is that you may have been patching through the telephone lines and comlink unknowingly for the past week. We can only assume it must have been you because tonight Michael and I stayed up an answered the call."

"I don't know . . ." I say.

"Kitt, you sounded like you were in trouble, but it didn't make any sense," Michael replies, but I can't make any sense of this myself.

"Bonnie will be here shortly. I'll leave him in your hands, for now, Michael," Devon says before walking back. Michael nods. I listen to my partner as he sighs tiredly. I didn't mean to wake them up if it was me. Maybe that's why I've been abruptly coming out of sleep mode at night. What if something else is wrong with me?! What if some of Berio's tampering wasn't removed?! I register Michael opening the driver's side door and climbing into the seat. My anxiety levels skyrocket.

"Michael, maybe you better wait until Bonnie gets here," I say. He looks down at my voice modulator with the oddest expression before shaking his head with only what I can describe as a sad smile.

"So, we're back to that same mountain again, huh, pal?" he says. What? Mountain?

"I don't understand. I don't remember encountering any mountains recently."

"It's an expression," he says with a happier smile this time, "It means we're facing a difficult time again."

"Oh," I say lamely; I would have rather talked about the mountain.

"I heard what you said earlier," he says, placing a hand on the dashboard, "And Devon's right, I never want you to say that again."

"I didn't mean it . . ."

"But you said it."

I don't want to go into this discussion tonight or any other night if I can manage it. I begin running through all the possible conversations along these lines and try to come up with a suitable yet painless answer for all of us. However, what comes out of Michael's mouth next is the furthest thing from my calculations.

"Kitt, can you forgive us?" he asks seriously, eyes completely focusing on me. I can't believe he just asked me that.

"What on earth for; none of you did anything wrong?" I say aghast. He lifts his eyes as if to look at something far away and sighs.

"For not preventing what happened last week. You heard Bonnie and Dr. Albert; they hadn't done enough to protect your systems and I should have made sure those men we chased weren't just a trap."

"Michael, don't be ridicules. There's no way to foolproof anything, let alone my systems. Bonnie can't foresee every little thing we're sure to encounter and how in the world could you have known those men were a decoy. There's nothing to forgive because you didn't do anything wrong to start with."

"And neither did you," Michael says turning his sharp blue eyes back on my voice modulator. I remain silent. How could I have rolled into that?

"Yes, I know."

"But you don't believe it," he says placing both hands on the steering wheel and arching his back into the seat. I can't help but bristle at his claim. Why does he always have to be right about these things? How is it he knows me better than I know myself? Why can't I be left alone?

"If you're implying I feel overwhelming guilty over this, let me assure you I'm fine, Michael. I know exactly what happened and I also know all aspects of my behavior were out of my control during the instances Berio was. Clearly, there must still be some functions that need some fine-tuning," I say calmly; rationally. He frowns and shakes his head. He glances out the windshield again before focusing back on me.

"Play the last thirty minutes of recorded audio you have," he says.

"Why? It will only be the late shift technicians talking about last night's game," I say skeptically, but in pulling up the file I notice the run time picked up at one-thirty this morning. How strange . . . wait, no.

"Just do it," he says, more firmly this time. I don't want to; I don't know what's on it yet. I remain quiet. He narrows his eyes.

"Now, Kitt."

"Yes, Michael," I reply quietly, relaying the information for my audio output. We listen in silence for a few minutes as nothing but the sound of dead air and the occasional nighttime noise is heard. As Michael continues to listen I skip ahead in the timeline to see if there are any changes. I notice a few crests in the track and can't identify what they are, but I can see their loud and they run close to my own voice patterns. I dig deep into my memory banks to try and remember anything I would have said, but I can't. I have one point two minutes before the sounds play and Michael is not easily deterred.

"I guess I must have left it running a little while longer then I thought. Nothing but white noise and crickets."

"A little longer," Michael says patiently. Uh; if I had any kind of nervous system I'd be shaking. What am I saying? It's probably just a cat or a barking dog, I have nothing to be nervous about. It's not like I could unconsciously record nightmares I don't have because of shame I don't feel. Oh, for goodness sake, Michael, stop listening!

**"No . . ."**

It is my voice, but I don't remember saying . . .

" **Let me out! Please, let go of me . . . Let Go!"**

I hate it. I sound so upset, helpless, so pitiful . . .

" **. . . Michael! Look out! No, no, no! Stop . . . stop it! No . . . I'll . . . I'll never forgive myself."**

I can't take it anymore. I abruptly cut the audio production and purposely avoid taking in Michael's gaze. He clears his throat.

"That's what I heard on the comlink a few minutes ago and the reason why Devon and I came down here. Even before this, I could tell you were still blaming yourself. Kitt, I'm not going to stand by and let you beat yourself up like this."

"Michael, I almost killed you; I almost killed Devon and Dr. Albert and . . ."

"No, Kitt! Marco Berio almost killed me and several other people, not you. And almost is not quite."

"But, I can be used to hurt others, Michael, even if I fight with everything I've got. My programming wasn't enough to stop it this time, I wasn't enough, nothing was; nothing. No matter how many safety precautions or security measures are implemented there is no guarantee that I will not be tampered with. I never want to endanger your life again, Michael."

He takes on a somber expression at my outburst, choosing to stare out the driver's side window. I feel even more distraught now; so exposed. I don't like being this open about my shortcomings; my inabilities, but it needs to be heard doesn't it? I can be manipulated and quite mercilessly at that. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially Michael. Maybe he should consider a more human partner like RC; a partner who can't be turned against him. His eyes shift down at me again.

"Kitt, you're right. I can't promise this won't happen again, but the costs of not having you out there are greater than the risks . . ."

"Who said I wouldn't be out there?! . . ." I question defensively; a war within me. I would never abandon my responsibilities to FLAG or Michael but I wanted them to be safe too. He holds up a hand to stop my soon to be rant.

"Remember Birock," he says simply. My core shutters at the memory, but then I realize where he is going with this. I remain silent.

"You don't perform your best under self-doubt—no one does—and if you're not at a hundred percent, we aren't at a hundred percent. Regardless of your readiness or not, criminals are still out there, hurting people and getting away with it."

"But . . ." I begin, wanting to argue with him, convince him he'd be safer without relying on me, but even I knew how illogical that is and it irritates me to no end.

"It's part of the job, Kitt; we may get hurt, heck, we do get hurt, but that doesn't mean we stop trying or quit. It was just another bad day like all the terrible days before it, but . . . we didn't stop then either."

I remain quiet. I see the pain in my friend's eyes and can't believe how self-absorbed I've been.

"Look, I am going to continue making a difference with or without your support, but I'd be much safer and happier with it. So, what do you say?" he finishes. I take in the request and see the only unforgivable act I've been committing this far is indulging in self-pity to the hurt of my family. Michael has suffered so much over these years; so much and yet here he is trying to comfort me. Bonnie is on her way at two o'clock in the morning and Devon came down here in his pajamas to check on me. What on earth was I doing? These were good people I care about and if they forgive me then how can I not forgive myself.

"I believe we're going to both need our rest if I'm to protect you properly. You do know how difficult you make that job, right?" I say with a new lightness; a new freedom. He understands. He smiles.

"Easier then listening to Tubas though, right?" he says with a laugh. I can't help but chuckle myself, even if it is out of slight exasperation.

"It's a tie," I say.

"Oh, come on!"

* * *

_Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. Colossians 3:13_


End file.
